


Courage of the Stars

by mitsuki_yuriko



Category: EXO (Band), Super Junior
Genre: Gen, Mentioned Other K-pop Artist(s), Mentioned Super Junior Ensemble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21777898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsuki_yuriko/pseuds/mitsuki_yuriko
Summary: Inspired by 'Saturn' - Sleeping at last.What does it mean to be a star? What does it mean to even exist?
Kudos: 10





	Courage of the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> Just the random mumblings of my mind around Heechul, Universal Stars, meaning of life, etc, turned into a fanfic.  
> Please leave me a comment or kudo if you enjoyed it! They really make my day :D

Some days, Heechul feel a little bit blue. Like the world is a little bit darker, a little bit colder, a little bit harder to breathe.

Some days, he feel a little bit sorry for himself.

But then he immediately feel guilty.

_don't you dare feel sorry for yourself._

_you don't have time to host your own pity party_

_as soon as you feel sorry for yourself, the world becomes an endless nightmare._

And he drags himself up and keep on pushing. Just another schedule. Just another talk show. Just another album.

_Just another day._

But it gets a little bit harder to stand up each time.

.

.

.

.

When a star is born, atoms of light are squeezed together under pressure to undergo nuclear fusion. Heechul’s parents and friends and all the people who love him poured so much light into him, he couldn’t help but shine brightly. His enthusiasm for life, for _people_ was always evident, sparkling in his sparkling eyes and in his witty humour. 

But all the gravity in the mass of a star is trying to pull it inwards. The force of gravity compresses it, condenses it, and the only thing stopping a star from collapsing is its light.

Some days, Heechul feels like he is giving off light. He has so much brightness that he can pour it into the people around him and light up the entire room.

Other days, Heechul feels like he is losing light. Like he is dimmer than a firefly in its dying days, gradually getting darker and darker until it fades away.

He’s losing light.

And then there will be nothing left to keep him from… to keep him from…

.

_Crumbling._

_._

_._

_._

What is the purpose of a star? He wonders, in the quiet hours of the early morning. When the other members are still sleeping, when the only thing keeping him company is the quiet shadows of the moon spilling across his bedsheets, and his own turbulent thoughts.

What is the purpose of a star? He wonders, as he stares at his soulless eyes in the dressing room mirror. The other members are getting dressed, getting hair styled, getting makeup done. The buzz of activity around him is comforting, yet lonely. Familiar, yet strange.

What is he doing? Why is he doing it?

What is the purpose of a star? He wonders. Fighting a losing battle, denying the inescapable. Struggling in vain to continue existing, even though it is inevitable that eventually it will run out of light, of life, and lose to the forces of gravity.

That is the law of the universe. To shine brightly, and then disappear into nothingness.

_What is the purpose of my existence?_

.

.

.

.

"Heechul! Ten minutes till you're up!"

"Okay, okay!"

He leaves his dressing room and walks through the dark corridors. People are constantly rushing by him, back and forth. It's hot and stuffy and crowded, but Heechul paid it no mind, used to it after a decade in the industry. He's about to enter the final dressing room when a small sound to his right catches his attention.

He slows his pace, and listens intently. There's a shuffling noise, no louder than the sound of shoes scaping across the floor. But it's coming from behind the curtain. 

He quietly parts the curtains that line the walkway, and discovers a small hole in the wall, just big enough for him to squeeze through.

He glances over his shoulder to see if anyone's noticed, but every staff member is running around, finalising preparations. No one had noticed him, nor the inviting gap in the wall.

So Heechul slips through the hole, the curtain silently closing behind him.

.

.

.

.

The walkway is narrow, and not very high. Heechul has to bend over slightly to avoid hitting his head. It's more of a forgotten space between the two removable buildings than a proper pathway. Yet, Heechul's instincts tell him to continue, so he presses forward. The path is long and curved, zigzagging from side to side, but he soon reaches the end.There's a tiny ray of moonlight coming from somewhere above, cutting through the dark and highlighting a small ball, huddled in the corner.

He approaches slowly, as one would a startled animal.

"Hey," Heechul calls.

The huddle moves. Shifts and uncurls, to return to some resemblance of a human form. It's a boy, one of the SM rookies. In the dark, it's too difficult to see who it is. He sees blonde hair, and dark wary eyes.

Heechul continues forward, and sits down on the dusty ground beside the boy, who shuffles over to offer him more space.

He leans against the wooden barricade and looks up. From where they're sitting there's a tiny sliver of the night sky, and he can see the stars.

_How long has it been since he had time to simply look up and admire the stars?_

"Are you alright?"

"Y-Yes, sunbae-nim."

Well, it seemed they knew him, even if he didn't know the other person.

"Don't give me that crap. We're all artists here, we're the SM family. Don't be so formal with me."

"Y-yes, hyung."

"Now tell me what's wrong."

"..."

The boy lapses into silence, fidgeting slightly.

Heechul sighs. What was Heechul doing here? If it was Leeteuk, he would scold the boy for hiding in such a dark, dirty place. If it was Shindong, he would probably offer a listening ear. If it was Siwon, he would probably offer life advice.

But Heechul was just Heechul. He didn't know how to comfort people.

"First time performing in front of such a big crowd?" Heechul guesses.

He feels the boy shift, and nod beside him.

"Nervous, didn't get much rest last night, needed some time alone?" Heechul guesses again.

Another nod.

Heechul sighs. "We've all been there before."

"I'm not much good at offering advice," Heechul admits. "I can't tell you a magic way to calm your nerves, nor can I promise everything will be okay."

"But just know the first concern we had, the very first one, none of us slept the night before. High on adrenaline and sleep deprivation, the entire performance was a blur. No one remembers what happened, let alone how we managed to pull it off."

He reached over blindly and ruffles the boy's hair, and the boy squawks indignantly. "When you've practised so much, even when your mind abandons you, your body remembers. So no point worrying."

The boy besides him continue to sit in silence. But Heechul can tell he's holding onto every word.

"There is no magic fix-all. But you're in SM. We survive through hard work, hard work and more hard work. Which I'm sure you've done. Just trust yourself."

Heechul _really_ needs to go soon.

The boy is quiet. But more of a contemplative silence, as if mulling over his words, rather than panic-induced silence.

"But..."

"Hm?"

"But what if I can't trust myself? They're all counting on me. What if I fail them?"

_Ah._

Heechul thinks back to the time his voice cracked on stage, and the humiliation that followed. The fear that he had ruined what little hope Super Junior had. The years of refusing to sing, years of being _unable_ to sing, as his throat clogs and his voice chokes up every time he goes near a mic.

"Here."

He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a packet of lemon-flavoured cough drops. He grabs the boy's arm and presses it gently into his hand. 

"This is one of Kyuhyun's trade secrets. Eat one five minutes before performing. It settles the stomach, soothes the throat, and the sugar should energize you. Don't tell our evil maknae I told you, or he'll tear down and burn all the girl-group posters in my room."

The boy lets out a startled laugh, and curls his fingers around the packet.

Wary of time, Heechul stands up, brushing dirt off his pants. He needed to go soon, or Leeteuk would chew his ear off.

"Good luck. You'll be amazing. Cinderella is telling you so."

"W-wait!"

"Hm?"

"T-thank you."

Heechul smiles, a small, uncharacteristically genuine smile. 

"Go make me proud."

And he sets off down the corridor again, re-emerging through the hole in the wall to rejoin his members. He keeps his lips sealed when they nag and ask him where he went, and they're on stage quickly enough that it's soon forgotten.

Their performance was a hit, as was all the other performances that night. The weather was good, the energy was high, the audience was responsive, and everyone had a fantastic time. They piled into the van at the end of the day, tired but happy, chatting amongst themselves. The earlier encounter with the boy was pushed to the back of Heechul's mind, as he basked in the warmth and comfort of sharing time with his members. 

He forgets about the encounter until the end of the show, three days later, when he's changing from his stage outfit back into lounging clothes and something flutters out of his pocket.

Curiously, he unfurls the paper.

_Dear Heechul Sunbae-nim,_ it says.

_Thank you for supporting me. I will shine bright and make you proud._

_Yours sincerely,_

_SM rookie #1_

He flips the note over. No signature.

 _Who could it have been?_ He muses.

But it’s quickly forgotten, as Donghae barged into the room and demands for his attention, complaining about this and that.

It’s many, many years later that he remembers, through a chance encounter. He’s mucking around with some of the EXO boys when a small pouch, no bigger than the size of his outstretched hand, falls out of one of their backpacks.

He picked it up curiously. “What’s this?”

“Oh, hyung!” Jongdae startled. “You’d better put that back.”

“It’s Baek’s Special Bag, he’ll murder us if he finds out we've been messing with it!” Chanyeol grumbled.

“No one knows what’s inside, since he is terribly protective of it,” Minseok explained.

“What do you think could be inside?” Sehun asked, an evil smirk forming on his face.

“Photos!”

“Snacks?”

“Games!”

“Wedding ring?”

“Love letters!”

“Personal diary?”

“Contraceptives?”

“Lingerie!”

“Well, well, that’s all the reason to find out, hm?” Heechul cackles evilly and unzips the pocket, to the gleeful curiosity of the other members.

But despite the wild speculation of the members, the contents leave them groaning in disappointment. The bag reveals nothing more than a few personal everyday items, cosmetics, sunglasses and headphones. But what catches his eye is the familiar yellow box, slightly battered and roughened around the edges. The title printed on the side is nonetheless visible, _Lemon Flavoured Cough Drops_ proudly displayed in faded blue writing.

And suddenly Heechul is returned to several years ago, meeting a young boy hiding in the darkest corner of the stuffy corridor, shaking and fidgeting from nervousness of performing. And he remembers the note.

_Ah,_ he thinks. _It was you, all along._

And it’s at that moment that Baekhyun walks into the room, and sees them in the act. He turns bright red, and starts chasing the members around, who cackle and scamper out of the way as he shoos them out of the room.

He comes to a stop in front of Heechul, and suddenly Heechul remembers the small, insecure eleven-year-old boy from Bucheon. 

He was now the lead vocalist of one of the biggest kpop groups in the world, a man with wit and strength of character, elegance and confidence, loved and admired by many.

Yet, standing in front of Heechul, blushing from his toes to the roots of his hair, Heechul can’t help but let out a little laugh.

“Baekhyun.”

“Y-yes?"

"Is this what I think it is?" He gestured to the little yellow packet.

Baekhyun pressed his lips together in a firm line, fighting down an embarrassed grimace. "So what if it is? Don’t you dare laugh.”

Heechul only smiled indulgently, enjoying watching the younger boy squirm.

"What? If you want to say something, just say it."

“You’re shining just fine. I’m proud of you.”

Baekhyun blinked, stunned at the uncharacteristic words coming frmo Heechul.

And the thousand-watt smile Baekhyun returned moments later, had enough light to brighten a small universe.

.

.

.

.

_What is the purpose of my existence?_

Heechul sometimes wonders. Then he looks around him.

And he remembers.

He sees it in the smiles of his seniors, which are a little more genuine, a little less serious, after Heechul cracks jokes endlessly with them before they go on air.

He sees it in the shoulders of their members, which look a little lighter, no longer carrying the weight of the world by themselves, when Heechul drags the group out for a night of deep talks and unrestrained laughs instead of dance practice for the nth time.

He sees it in the faces of the rookies, which are a little more relaxed, a little less tense, when Heechul personally asks the staff to look after and make comfortable his precious hoobae when they go on variety shows.

He sees it in the new trainees, who look a little less stick-thin, with cheeks a little more full, eyes a little more bright when Heechul remembers their names, and reminds them that Shindong is one of Super Junior’s pillars, and that strength and skills is just as important as looks.

.

.

.

.

.

_There is courage in the stars._

_Light carries on endlessly, even after death._

_For the fleeting time it lives, it shines brightly, lighting up the world with light and warmth._

_Heechul looks around him, and sees his purpose._

.

.

.

If people are stars, then I will be a Universal Star, and light up the world.

If everyone is fated to die, then I will be a supernova, powerful and luminous even in my last moments.

And he closes his eyes and makes a promise.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_I will guard with my life their hopes and dreams,_

_for they are all that I have,_

_all that I am,_

_and all that I will ever be._

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

(How rare, and beautiful it is, to even exist.)


End file.
